It's Not Where You Start
by GirlAnime
Summary: AU. B/V. Bulma’s finishing up her Doctoral Degree at age 21, Vegeta’s in classes at age 24. When the two meet, things become hectic for the both of them.
1. Chapter 1: Putting Up A Good Front

**Title: It's Not Where You Start…**

**Chapter 1: Putting Up A Good Front**

**Rating:** T

**Fandom:** Dragon Ball Z

**Genre:** Alternate Universe/Romance/Angst/Drama

**Pairing:** Vegeta/Bulma

**Warnings:** Language (not so much in the chapter this time as much as it is the summary). Also, abuse of commas and semi-colon as necessary, they made me do it...honest!

**Summary:** AU. Bulma's finishing up her Doctoral Degree at age 21, Vegeta's in classes at age 24. When the two meet, things become hectic for the both of them.

**Extended Summary:** Alternate Universe. Bulma Briefs is the daughter of the world renown Dr. Briefs of Capsule Corporation. Smart, beautiful and charismatic, Bulma is the middle of getting her Master's Degree at only twenty-one years of age. When she meets college student Vegeta Ouji though, things begin to change. (I swear the summary should get better as the story progresses. Honest.)

**Disclaimer:** All Dragonball, Dragonball Z and Dragonball GT characters belong to Akira Toriyama. Cause let's face it, if I owned these characters I would totally be making this into the animated cannon or manga cannon somehow.

**Author's Notes:** Please bear in mind that this is AU, and given more of a modern/realist setting, maybe not by much, but make sure that registers because this is not the same West City that Mr. Toriyama created.

I apologize for any gaps in my knowledge on certain subjects, but I'm not unwilling to listen to corrections if the lack of knowledge breaks the suspension of disbelief. I'm not adverse to suggestions for resources on said subjects either, in fact I'd probably be more than happy to be presented with a new resource for knowledge! Unfortunately I have a weakness when it comes to researching (generally I get fed up and just want to write the bloody thing) so if I'm horribly off on something, please feel free to either leave it in a review or message me.

A few notes about Bulma's hair, in this story it's a mix of the manga pictures and anime so it's essentially periwinkle. Be prepared to see blue and purple used interchangeably, but that doesn't mean her hair changes color. If you've ever seen periwinkle, you know what I'm talking about, if not…look it up. ;)

Also, please leave a review as they are like candy to me and I like candy. :)

[EDIT 4/22/11: I'm having to go re-format things. I don't like the page breaks but it seems to be the only way the document manager lets me have any sense of space so please forgive it. :) ]

**Recommended Listening:** "Control" by Poe, "Bleed Like Me" by Garbage, "Magic's In The Makeup" by No Doubt.

* * *

**It's Not Where You Start…**

**Chapter 1: Putting Up A Good Front**

* * *

"_Dignity comes not from control, but from understanding who you are and taking your rightful place in the world." –Anonymous_

* * *

Control.

If anything could be said of Bulma Briefs, it was that she craved for the control of her environment. Being the daughter of world renown Dr. Briefs of Capsule Corporation had provided her childhood, what little there was of it for an adolescent genius, to be full of turmoil and change, mainly due to moving around often, suddenly, and without warning.

Gliding the straightening iron through her periwinkle hair to shape it in toward her face, she imagined quite frequently that she was shaping her life with the simple action; her mantra, 'smart, gorgeous, and in-control,' running through her head with each stroke.

She was now age twenty-one and halfway through her computer science doctoral degree, finishing up her second bachelor's degree in biology and contemplating starting yet another bachelor's degree in some other science. Her intelligence was something to be awed at, her looks to be envied and her temper to be feared. However, no matter how many times she reassured herself with these assets, it was always when she was alone and staring at her reflection that she realized just how not-in-control of her life she was.

Applying the foundation for her controlled mask of makeup, she reflected upon the even swipes of the creamy skin toned liquid. She didn't need the makeup, but she always felt more in control when she had it in place compared to simply brushing on some lip gloss and mascara. Bulma was never one to admit to hiding, but she would at least acquiesce to the idea of concealing her flaws until the layer of beauty product was firmly in place. After that, she was who she always convinced herself she should be; confident, in-control and intelligent Bulma Briefs, daughter of Dr. Briefs, and future hope of the world's technology.

Okay, maybe 'hope of the world' was counted as exaggerating until she got her doctorate and a few more academic certificates. Hell if she was going to admit it though. She was smart and she knew it.

After spending a few more carefully calculated minutes with the makeup, Bulma sat back and appreciated the flawless mask for a few precious seconds before grabbing her backpack and keys; leaving the items in her room slightly messy and in disarray. Today she was giving a guest presentation in a pathetically below freshman level class, Computer Science 1020, for one of her favorite teachers and fellow scientists, Dr. Gero. Had she not been so conceited in the matter, she would have admitted to being the equivalent to a substitute teacher but as it was, her pride wouldn't allow it. Guest lecturer had a much nicer ring to it in her opinion and sounded much more prestigious. Besides, she could use it in her growing resume and curriculum vitae if she ever needed to.

Normally she wouldn't have done such a favor for anyone, but the good scientist had to oversee one of his precious projects this week and had asked Bulma to lecture in his class for a day or two. Depending upon how well his proposal went over with his client he could be back as soon as this evening or as late as next Monday. Bulma groaned at the idea of lecturing for more than a day. She couldn't figure out why such an adept mind was stuck teaching a beginning Computer Science class, but had settled for an excuse that the responsibility to teach the class rotated quarterly between all the teachers in the department—and rather begrudgingly at that.

It took only a few minutes to walk to campus from her residence, but the idea of walking the distance and working up a glow of sweat was rather unappealing to Bulma as she had just spent so much time preparing herself for the grueling ordeal that was going to be lecturing to the students who were more or less going to be blithering idiots anyway. Not that she had a problem with people being less intelligent than she—after all her best friend was probably one of the least book-smart people she knew!—but she did not like the idea of freshmen students and other lazy upper classman taking such a class because it was so simple they felt they should get an A for simply attending. Growing up a child prodigy had her quite accustomed to being smarter than everyone else around her, but she would not tolerate laziness.

Without a trace of irony she slid into her car and drove the less than one minute drive to campus and searched an additional ten minutes for a proper parking space close enough to the academic hall she would end the day at. The five minute walk seemed remotely better for a few minutes before she finally cruised her dark red coupe into a space that was far too skinny due to the inept drivers on both sides of said space.

Striding along the hallways of her school with long, determined steps she reached the stadium seated lecture hall in a matter of minutes, her short business heels clicking smartly on the tiled floor. After settling herself behind the large lecture counter, complete with media panel and input sockets, at the front of the class Bulma made sure to lay out all her notes in an organized fashion and start the projector on it's warm up sequence.

As the class time drew nearer, with more students filling up the empty seats, she swiped her hair behind her ears and began to mentally run through the public speaking exercises she had learned at the early age of fourteen when she gave her first lecture in assistance to one of her father's many presentations.

She was in control, she could do this. Piece of cake.

* * *

Vegeta Ouji the Fifth was not a man to be taken lightly. Thankfully the school board had learned this rather quickly without him having to resort to less than legal methods, other than bribing, in order to get himself into classes at West City University, during mid-semester no less. It wasn't his idea of paradise or the perfect school environment, but then again he had unusually high standards for a young man of his age. As a result his demeanor was perceived as unpleasant, on a good day, toward the average human being.

If the Ouji family were to have a photo album, any onlookers might be surprised to find that almost all first sons of the bloodline looked strikingly like their fathers—regardless of generation. Vegeta the Fifth resembled his father in very many ways, genetically being the first and most obvious. With dark black hair, rich olive-yellow complexion, deep dark brown-black eyes, and regal facial features, he was the identical image of his father and proud display of Japanese heritage minus the thick beard and mustache of his paternal figure. Slightly smaller than his father, and a mite more wire-like in his strongly muscled frame, he was no doubt handsome. His gruff disposition was another way in which he was like his father, albeit he would not know it with his father having been delcared deceased several years ago. Conceited, aloof, good looking, and talented; this made up the best, according to his own opinion, of the Ouji family.

He was unhappy enough to be ordered to spend time away from his homeland as it was, much less wake up for a 10 a.m. class so it was with a grudging attitude that he strolled into Dr. Gero's Computer Science 1020 at 10:45 in the morning only to find someone other than the doctor himself teaching the class. It was bad enough that everyone stared at him rather indignantly as he shuffled his way to a spot halfway down the many rows of seats, making sure he didn't move his backpack or skateboard out of courtesy for anyone who was unfortunate to get hit with it for sitting in his walkway. He figured it was their fault for getting in his way and if anyone wanted to fight him for it, they could try and limp away with only a bloody nose if they were lucky.

With his navy sweatshirt hoodie pulled up around his messy bed-head of hair, he pulled out his notebook and began scratching away the notes uninterestingly in the ratty and obviously abused thing. After he finished scribbling down what he could of the slide that remained upon the projecting screen he made sure to give the Teacher's Assistant a long and hard glare to let them know to mark him as being present. When the thin framed blond man started to correct the attendance books the substitute teacher had the nerve to stop him and take the books into her possession. Vegeta considered verbally lashing out at her but considered against it while the class was still going, more out of apathy rather than politeness.

He would deal with it after class and make sure that she knew who he was and how she should act accordingly. She was rather attractive, dressed more like a student than a teacher in a skirt shorter than comfortable for most female educators and with a lavender cast to her hair from the fluorescent lights, but she didn't know her place and Vegeta would not take well to being insulted even if he was a foreign country. All of the faculty knew who he was already, especially anyone in contact with Dr. Gero, so she had no excuse other than stupidity.

An hour and a half later and after two rather short impromptu naps on Vegeta's half, class was over and all the students started packing up their books. As a few students rushed to the front of the classroom to ask the new teacher some questions, no doubt over the extremely boring lesson that had just taken place, the grumpy young man decided to walk up the stairs and wait by the exit; covering himself partly in the shadow of one of the overhangs. When everyone had packed up and left after the brief round of questioning he noticed an immediate change of body language from the young teacher in the front of the class. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a deep exasperated breath and started to fiercely organize her folders, paperwork and books into the book bag she had pulled from behind the counter. He could also hear vague and, from the tone of it, angry murmurs that she was repeating to herself but she was doing a rather good job to keep the words unintelligible from his acute hearing.

Striding up the large amount of steps, nearly losing her balance once or twice due to the weight of papers she had collected from the student's as their homework assignments, she came up over the edge of the final steps with wild determination to get out of the classroom.

"Exactly who are you Woman and where is Gero?" Interjected his voice out of the partially shaded, dim but not completely black shadowed corner near the door.

Apparently he had either been so furtive in his waiting or she had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she practically fell over to one side as her ankle twisted under her in surprise. He assumed a bit of both was to blame but felt the previous was mostly accountable for her reaction. Propping herself on the back of the closest chair to keep herself from falling, he could see it in her features as she slid a mask of calmness onto her face.

"Dr. Gero had to meet with a client this week and I have been asked in as the guest lecturer. Who may I ask are you?" She replied with barely masked agitation to such a pompous attitude.

"Hmph," he exhaled indignantly as he crossed his arms across his chest and stood up straight from his semi-reclined position on the wall. "If you're part of Dr. Gero's department you should already know who I am Woman. I'm Vegeta Ouji the Fifth and I will not tolerate any more disrespect in this class such as what happened earlier, is that clear?"

The blue haired woman's eyes widened in disbelief as her perfectly placed mask dared to balk at such a haughty command. "Excuse me, but seeing as I am the guest lecturer for this class, for possibly a few more days, you have no right to command me about anything Mr. Ouji. Had you been on time, or at least quieter in your entrance I might have been willing to let you slide on the attendance. As it is, I would appreciate it if you'd enter class on time and more quietly." She shifted the weight of her book bag more firmly onto her shoulder. "If you have any other complaints you can take them up with Dr. Gero once he returns. Good day Mr. Ouji." She added a small, strained, and completely insincere smile onto her face before brusquely walking out the door, leaving the stern young man to eat her proverbial dust.

Vegeta merely glanced at her retreating figure as she escaped out the door in a rush. He didn't know who she was but he wasn't happy at the idea that some of the staff didn't know how to show proper respect. Lacing his arms through the straps of his backpack he grabbed up his skateboard and was about to venture to the fourth floor of the Sciences building to further investigate the strange woman's lack of proper behavior, in his eyes, to him when he noticed something glinting on the floor next to the last row of seats in the lecture hall.

On the floor was a small silver phone, complete with letter keyboard on it's chrome facing, right where the woman had faltered in her stride up the steps. He would bet it was the foolish substitute's phone and smirked at the idea of making sure she knew exactly his idea of what respect should be.

Oh yes, this was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2: Get Angry? Get Even

**Title: It's Not Where You Start…**

**Chapter 2: Get Angry? Get Even.**

**Rating:** T (for now…)

**Fandom:** Dragon Ball Z

**Genre:** Alternate Universe/Romance/Angst/Drama

**Pairing:** Vegeta/Bulma

**Warnings:** Language. Abuse of commas and semi-colon as necessary; they made me do it.

**Short Summary:** AU. Bulma's finishing up her Doctoral Degree at age 21, Vegeta's in classes at age 24. When the two meet, things become hectic for the both of them.

**Summary:** Alternate Universe. Bulma Briefs is the daughter of the world renown Dr. Briefs of Capsule Corporation. Smart, beautiful and charismatic, Bulma is the middle of getting her Master's Degree at only twenty-one years of age. When she meets college student Vegeta Ouji though, things begin to change and she's unsure as to whether or not she likes this change, much less can control it.

**Disclaimer:** All Dragonball, Dragonball Z and Dragonball GT characters belong to Akira Toriyama. Cause let's face it, if I owned these characters I would totally be making this into the animated canon or manga cannon somehow.

**Author's Notes:** So here's the second chapter, wewt! In this it's mentioned that West City is in the U.S.A. (aka, The States) simply because it works out better plot wise if it exists outside of Japan (which is where I'm sure Akira Toriyama would base his characters if he put them in the 'real world'). Plus I'm more familiar with U.S. customs and as such I feel more comfortable writing about it, seeing as how I live in 'The States' myself.

Please leave a review as they are like candy to me and I like candy. :)

**Recommended Listening:** "Trigger Happy Jack" by Poe, "Low" by T-Pain.

* * *

**It's Not Where You Start…**

**Chapter 2: Get Angry? Get Even.**

* * *

"_Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die." –Mel Brooks_

* * *

Bulma cursed loudly as she sifted frantically through her jacket pockets and designer purse. She just _had_ to have the damned designer bag, even though it had no real place to store her phone. Admittedly she knew better but the purse was just _too_ gorgeous to not have, so she didn't really care at the time of purchase where her phone would go; until now. As she rummaged, with no small panic, through all of her items at the lunch table, a tall Japanese man place his lunch from the student cafeteria in a seat beside her own, unnoticed.

"Whatcha doin' Bulma?" The young man with spiky hair asked jovially.

"I'm looking for my phone." She said to the young man while not diverting any attention from her mad search for it at the end of the table.

The young man arched an eyebrow and dove into his overly full tray while asking, "Don't you usually put it in your jacket pocket since you bought that new purse?"

Bulma groaned as she gave up her hunt and started to put her school items back in order. "Normally you'd be right Goku, but apparently it's fallen out somewhere." Sitting properly in her seat once more she crossed her arms and hunched back in her seat, positively choleric at the notion of losing her phone, again.

"Well it's a good thing you're rich! Otherwise you might have some problems replacing the phone." Came the friendly observation between alternating bites and gulps of food and drink.

The unhappy student absently poked the burger on her lunch tray unhappily with a finger, "Yeah but I had some pictures on there I really wanted to put on my computer." Neglecting to mention said pictures were of Yamcha, her ex-boyfriend, she added, "Besides, if I replace any more lost phones I just know the phone company is going to bite me in the ass with some sort of liability charge."

Goku nodded, if nodding was indeed the motion he was making between the devouring of different items on his tray, as a petite but strong looking woman strode up to the table and plopped into the seat next to Goku.

"Hi Chi-Chi," Bulma said with an unenthusiastic wave to her friend.

The new comer addressed the moping woman first, "Hey Bulma. Hey Sweetie," after giving the ever-eating guy next to her a kiss on the cheek she turned back to Bulma. "What happened? It sounds like you're kind of upset about something."

As Bulma picked at her food she gave a little grunt of displeasure. "I lost my phone again and I can't think of where it might be."

"I told you not to get that horribly small purse Bulma," she admonished as she quickly fixed the bun that held her black tresses away from her face. "Have you retraced your steps? Are you even sure you took it with you this morning?"

Bulma bit viciously into a potato fry and answered after swallowing the bite-sized morsel, "Yes and yes, thank you very much. I checked Dr. Gero's classroom and even went all the way out to my car to check and see if I left it in the door pocket."

Chi-Chi looked skeptically at her friend as Goku rose seemingly unnoticeably to get another tray of food, "Are you _SURE_ you took it with you from your apartment? You've done this before you know…"

"Yes, I'm sure!" She ground out as if she were a child being scolded. "I had to go back up the stairs this morning to get it, believe me I remember taking it with me."

Chi-Chi sighed in defeat at her friend's scatter-brained tendencies. World's smartest woman and _THIS_ was how she represented the her gender? Life was cruel. While she admired her friend for her intelligence, she'd not-so-secretly give an arm and a leg for Bulma's brains just so the world's smartest female could have common sense. Reaching into her own purse she pulled out her cell phone and proffered it to the grumpy girl a few seats down.

"Here, call your phone with this one and see if anyone's found it. Maybe they'll return it to you if you're lucky." Momentarily holding onto the phone as Bulma's hand closed around it she deadpanned, "I want it back okay?"

"Yeah, yeah smarty pants." She stuck out her tongue a little and held down the number tree key, knowing that one was voicemail and two was Goku's number.

_Riiiiiiinnnggg!_

Goku meandered back to the table with another tray full of food and a bit of a brighter smile, if that was possible. "Hey guess what guys—er, girls!" he corrected at his girlfriend's unimpressed glare.

Giving a small smile for the correction, Chi-Chi grabbed the soda off his tray to keep it from tipping over as he sat down rather haphazardly with excitement. "What?"

_Riiiiiiinnnggg!_

Bulma tapped her finger on the phone as it rang in her ear, but kept the other one open for Goku's news.

"Do you remember when I went to Japan that semester as part of that exchange program in the Athletics department?" He said excitedly as he dove into another round of food.

"Yeah, and they were the loneliest four months of my life." Chi-Chi whined while pouting her bottom lip for extra effect.

_Riiiiiiinnnggg!_

Goku continued eating and talking at the same time, not really caring about any crumbs flying out of his mouth, "You remember I told you about my sparing partner in karate class, right?" When Chi-Chi nodded he continued, "Well he's actually here!"

Bulma was mildly interested in Goku's discovery as she had seen the photos he had taken for souvenirs while he was there. While the person in question had never smiled in ANY of the photos taken, he was good looking and that interested Bulma very much. The way Goku talked about him he seemed friendly enough, but she supposed that wasn't saying much as her dim-witted friend would talk about a rabid animal fondly. It was one of his more admirable, albeit sometimes annoying, traits; an endearing feature and part of why she was friends with the hunky Athletics major.

_Riiiiiiinnnggg!_

"Dammit!" Bulma cried out, pressing the end call button before the number went to voicemail. "No answer."

Chi-Chi frowned in sympathy at her plight, "Maybe it's in campus' lost and found? We could go by there after lunch if you like, my next class isn't until three."

"I'd definitely be grateful for the company. I hate having to go there by myself, they're getting to know when I'll show up." She dipped her head so low over her tray that her purple-blue bangs nearly landed in her side salad.

The responsible girl chuckled and shook her head, not surprised in the least. "So, how'd it go in class today? About as expected? Did you bore half the class into slumber like Dr. Gero?"

Bulma grimaced at the memory of the unpleasant 'Mr. Ouji the Fifth'. "Ugh, it went rather well I guess until the end of everything. Let me tell you, this one kid waltzes into class forty-five minutes _after_ class starts, makes a TON of noise and commotion getting to his seat and then, after trying to intimidate the T.A. into marking him present by _GLARING_ at him, decides to sleep through half the class. All while yawning obnoxiously whenever he _was_ awake." She bit into her burger as if to demonstrate her displeasure.

"Wow, talk about inconsiderate." Chi-Chi's eyes widened a little at the idea of someone so obnoxious while she mixed her Cesar salad.

"Oh, that's not the worst part, Chi." Bulma took a large sip of her diet soda to wash down the large bite of burger. "Get this, after class he has the _audacity_ to correct me about my attitude, as if I were some sort of servant! The nerve!" She set her burger down and turned her attention to her small side salad, judiciously pouring dressing from a tin packet over it.

Chi-Chi gawked, "You're _kidding_? Right?" Then smirked, knowing her friend's ill temper and big mouth, "Did you let him live?"

Goku was munching happily away at his food, occasionally glancing at the cashier line across the room casually as if looking for someone, but he chuckled at the idea of Bulma the substitute student teacher making another student cry with her cutting and sly remarks. He would never be able to deliver an insult like Bulma, but then again, he would never want to insult anyone. There were a few exceptions, but they were rare.

"Yeah, I let him live." Stabbing at the thinly coated iceberg lettuce she grumped, "What was I gonna do? I don't think Dr. Gero would be too happy if I insulted his students and got him in trouble, much less hurt one of his students physically."

Chewing delicately -conceded, "True. Hey, do you remember his name or what he looked like? Maybe I could trip him for you if I see him in the halls or something!" She perked up at her own sneaky idea; no one would see it coming!

"Ooo! You might have something there Chi-Chi! That way I wouldn't get in trouble!" Bulma practically bounced in her seat as she chewed her own bite of salad. Chi-Chi had some fighting chops when she wanted to use them so she dare not insult her friend with the insinuation of her getting caught as she gave out his description. "He's some kind of skater guy judging by the skateboard he had and his clothes. He's about yea tall," she indicated with her hand not that far from top of her own, "and he looks to be of Japanese dissent, like Goku."

At this Chi-Chi nodded and listened intently. She knew it'd be a childish prank if she actually followed through, but there was nothing wrong with entertaining the fantasy of retribution though as long as it remained just that—a fantasy.

Not stopping her tirade, Bulma ignored Goku standing up from the his chair, presumably to get yet another tray of food, "And as for his name, it's—"

"Vegeta!" Goku called, to an imposing figure that had just exited the cashier line.

One corner of Bulma's mouth involuntarily jerked downward as her mouth opened to say the offending name that for some strange reason had come out of Goku's mouth.

Looking up at her buff friend, who was sporting his signature orange t-shirt that had it's sleeves cut off, she asked cautiously, "…Ouji…Yeah. Uh, how did _you_ know?" Her friend was perceptive about strange things but he was not clairvoyant, and he certainly did not have Computer Science 1020 at 10a.m. with Dr. Gero. Besides that, the classroom had been empty when the encounter had happened.

Goku waved a little more frantically at the strange figure, who seemed to be grudgingly walking over to their claimed table near the corner of the well-sized eating auditorium.

"Stop making a spectacle of yourself Kakarrot!" The raspy baritone voice commanded, and none too kindly. Since Goku was a popular guy it wasn't exactly strange to hear him referred to as his nickname; which had somehow originated during his trip to Japan from the use of his 'orange shirt collection' as their friend Krillin had put it.

"Bulma?" Chi-Chi attempted to wave her hand at her friend worriedly at the sudden stop in ranting which was so un-Bulma like.

Across from Goku suddenly appeared a tray piled just as high with food from the lunch line as Goku's had been, if not more than actually, and then a dreadfully familiar navy blue hoodie accompanied by a backpack and skateboard that were set carefully into the seat across from Chi-Chi. Bulma could practically feel her heart jump into her throat from surprise followed quickly by anger as she looked back at her friend next to Goku and then to the new addition to the table.

The brunette raised an eyebrow at the strangely quiet and seemingly irrelevant response.

"Sorry Vegeta," Goku rubbed the back of his head innocently and took his seat once more, "I just wanted to introduce you to my group of friends here. How long have you been in the States?"

Vegeta, more interested in his food than conversation, gave a grunt in response. If Goku noticed he didn't seem to care.

Bulma quieted a groan trying to claw it's way out of her mouth, making a rather odd strangling noise emit from her voice box Again she repeated the eye motion to Chi-Chi and even added a small head movement in a frantic hope that her friend would put two and two together. God, how she wished she had her phone, she could at least _text _her thoughts to Chi-Chi then!

"This here is Bulma," Goku motioned to his left, "and this is my girlfriend Chi-Chi! You remember me mentioning her don't you?" He grinned a rather sweet and dopey smile as he placed an arm around said girlfriend in a quick show of affection, while she gave a polite greeting to the newcomer at the table.

Bulma's fists shook slightly at her sides as she realized Chi-Chi still wasn't going to get her point without her verbalizing it in front of the offending person. Wild-eyed she noticed her friend's small red phone next to her tray where she had set it down and, in a futile fit of need for her phone, pressed down the speed dial for her own number. Maybe this time someone would pick up.

As the familiar melody of her ring tone trickled through the air Bulma had no need to place the red phone up to her ear. It took a few seconds for her to decipher that the words from the song were emanating from the backpack across from Chi-Chi.

"_Shawty got low low low low low low low low…"_

As she slowly turned her head toward the new student at their table, it was then that Bulma realized exactly what must have happened to her phone.

* * *

"_Shawty got low low low low low low low low…"_

Fuck.

He wasn't upset about the phone ringing as much as it was he didn't appreciate the timing of the blasted thing; first while he was in the lunch line with his arms full and now in front of the person who owned the damned object. Could his day get any better?

Calmly and deliberately he looked towards the girl with the lavender cast to her hair—Kakarrot had said her name was Bulma, right?—and slid a smirk onto his face. "You dropped your phone."

His hood was down now and he felt a little more awake and able to handle social interaction. After class, he had stopped by the restroom and decided to make himself look a little more presentable, or maybe it was to not feel so grimy, and ran some water over his face and hair; the subsequent finger combing of his hair causing the day-old gel to reactivate and prop the strands and clumps up in random and stylish spikes.

It was rather amusing to watch the formerly collected girl's mouth drop open and twitch angrily while she was struck silent. Probably with anger. Pity he didn't care.

"You—y—why do you have my phone!" She demanded loudly, finally finding her words, ending the call and placing her friend's phone down on the table. She knew how to make people look at her, that was for certain because half of the lunchroom was now casting thinly veiled glances toward the commotion.

The smirk faded as he repeated, "I said you dropped your phone. What, are you hard of hearing as well as stupid?"

The woman called Chi-Chi looked a bit confused at her friend as Kakarrot had already gone back to eating. Even with all his stupidity he had to admit he had the right idea. Vegeta turned his full attention to the food presently in front of him. Lunch time, or any meal time for that matter, was for eating, not for talking and so he began to consume the food he had purchased.

The girl from class gaped openly before her eye began twitching and she forced her mouth shut with a few jerky attempts. As she attempted to calm herself she took a few deep breaths and bit out calm and evenly, "I called it just a few minutes ago. Why didn't you pick up the phone to let me know it was found?"

"Because my hands were full." He answered simply, not looking away from his meal, and then dove into eating his own tray of food with an orderly gusto.

The irritated woman seemed to seethe at the end of the table, next to his own seat as if waiting for more of a response. Finally, after a few moments of food chewing silence, the dark haired woman of Kakarrot's spoke up.

"…Well aren't you going to give it back?" She asked with a hint of anger laced in the bottom of her voice; a warning of what would happen if he answered anything but yes.

He made sure to swallow the bite of food in his mouth before answering, even taking time to wipe his mouth afterward swiftly with a napkin, "When I'm done eating, I'll think about it." Giving the brunette a pointed look, he lifted up the next item for disposal by his digestive system, stopping in mid motion when he was interrupted by Bulma.

"But you're already here. Why not just give it back now?" Oh joy, the woman at the end of the table seemed to have found her voice again; her palm extended expectantly.

Expelling an annoyed sigh, Vegeta looked directly at the woman making sure to hold her blue eyes with his. "Because I am eating and I am not sure I'm going to return it. I do know, however, that if I am not allowed to finish my meal it will not have the slightest consideration of going back to you." With that he plucked a few napkins from the dispenser in the center of the table and placed them promptly in her expectant hand and returned to eating as if nothing had happened.

At this action Kakarrot's woman elbowed Kakarrot in the ribs rather harshly, "Goku…" she gave him an admonishing look in return for his questioning glance at her deed.

"What? He's right, he _is_ eating you know!" He stated innocently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. By the woman's irritated sigh, this was apparently the wrong response or at least not the one she had been expecting from the thoughtless buffoon.

"That's not what I meant. Goku, he's your 'friend', do something!" The woman was glaring sharply at the large athletic man next to her. Vegeta might have laughed at the absurdity of such a small female intimidating a male of Kakarrot's stature and build if he allowed himself to act upon whims—which he didn't. Instead he calmly continued to eat his food as his former sparring partner defended himself from his perceived mate.

Smoothly and quietly, Bulma rose from her seat and stalked over to the backpack and skateboard sitting in the chair across from Chi-Chi, intent clear on her face. Vegeta could feel her surprise when his hand darted out to capture her own in a firm and uncomfortable grip as she attempted to open the zippered compartment supposedly hiding her phone.

After another swallow of food he addressed the young woman in his clamp-like grasp. "Don't you know that it's rude to go through other people's belongings without permission?"

"Don't you know it's rude to take other people's things?" Futilely Bulma attempted to redirect her, and as a result his, hand at the zipper again to continue opening the bag. He simply took another bite of food and swallowed elegantly, all the while keeping a firm grip on the prying hand.

An annoyed tone made it's way into his voice as he defended his territory, "I told you I would think about it when I was finished eating—if that ever happens at this point." Giving her hand a menacing squeeze of warning he flicked her hand away from his bag and began to eat with two hands once more, ignoring the irate woman as if she had never been a threat at all. She had lost it, he had found it. Wasn't there a rule about that somewhere? Why was she so presumptuous as to think she deserved to get it back? She was foolish enough to lose it and he was smart enough to find it; open and shut case.

The Bulma woman rubbed the offending hand with the other comfortingly in an attempt to soothe the red marks left there from his grip. Then, after a moment of what looked to be thought, she walked to her seat and started packing up her items methodically and full of purpose.

Chi-Chi stared at her friend in confusion as she offered her phone back to her and gave Goku the remainder of her uneaten food; things were never good when Bulma became quiet. Throwing her backpack over one shoulder, the blue haired girl said her farewells to her two friends and then looked at Vegeta as she walked back to the opposite side of the table, with feigned felicity.

"When you decide to give me my phone back, Goku knows how to get in touch with me." Then, with one deft movement, she urbanely removed the unpleasant acquaintance's skateboard from the chair and left with a swift pace to her car to deposit the collateral item.

He might deny it if anyone asked, but Vegeta felt a smirk of appreciation tugging at the side of his mouth; A woman after his own heart.


End file.
